


New Perspective

by TexMex007



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: A+ parenting for real, Bloodplay, Can I call this a Twilight AU?, Chief Graham is an awesome Dad okay, Claiming Bites, Dad is police chief, Dad thinks this is okay, Father and son are tight, Hannibal is still a cannibal, I mean what?, I'm calling it that, M/M, Mom doesn't hence divorce, Murder, They're a little vampire family, Vampire!Abigail, Vampire!Bedelia, Vampire!Chilton, Vampire!Hannibal, Will has always been a dark thinker like he's solved crimes from age nine with his Dad, Will likes keeping mental scores, it's like a powerplay more than anything, pairing is of age, teenage!everybody unless otherwise mentioned, whoot whoot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-03-21 16:46:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3699689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TexMex007/pseuds/TexMex007
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham never asked for his parents to divorce all those years ago, but what's done is done. Determined to spend his senior year with his lonely Father in Forks, he takes off and begins his last year in high school alongside his childhood friend, Beverly Katz and manages, despite his usual distaste for strangers, to actually make friends with her compadres.</p><p>Then, in a chance encounter with a suave classmate in the cafeteria, Will's life is flipped upside down as his world is opened up to not only the dark underbelly of crime that he had once helped his Father solve as a child, but also the even darker world of unusually beautiful predators who, once they stake their claim in the one person who's blood sings to them the most, there is no going back.</p><p>Will can't exactly remember when Hannibal Lecter became less to him than just a straight 'A' student and more like his best friend slash lover slash personal parasite, but with each passing day he finds himself slowly falling into the charming boy's clutches, unaware that the cannibalistic vampire had already prepared a space for him in the confines of his heart.</p><p> </p><p>It's a Twilight AU, but no one ever said it had to be sappy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hannibal nor do I own Twilight---nothing is my own but these words I slave over.  
> The song title is from Panic! At the Disco's "New Perspective", a really good band, and a really good song. I actually was listening to it while writing this.
> 
> Also, If you have not yet read "Thirteen Reasons Why" by Jay Asher or "A Dog’s Life: The Autobiography of a Stray" by Ann M. Martin, do not be alarmed-there are no spoilers. But my God, dear fellow, you must take time out of life and read those two books. Martin’s book was a childhood favorite of mine, and Asher’s became a favorite in my recent adolescent years.
> 
> Enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Hannibal nor do I own Twilight---nothing is my own but these words I slave over. The title is from Panic! At The Disco's song "New Perspective", a really good band and a really good song. I actually was listening to it while writing this.
> 
> Also, if you've not yet read "Thirteen Reasons Why" by Jay Asher or "A Dog's Life: The Autobiography of a Stray" by Ann M. Martin, do not be alarmed-there are no spoilers. But my God, dear fellow, you must take time to read them. Martin's was a childhood favorite of mine and I can imagine a little Will reading it. Asher's has become a favorite recently, thanks to a friend.
> 
> Enjoy!

            “William, honey, are you _sure_ you want to stay with your father?”

             His mother’s tone is somewhere between relief and incredulous as they stand in front of the baggage check-in line at the Virginia airport, her hands clasped close to her bosom as she looks up at her tall son with the mossy green eyes he did not inherit, and just the sound of the two thoughts those tones bring _‘She really can’t wait for you to go, but she just wishes it wasn’t towards her ex-husband of all people, especially when husband no.2 is waiting outside’_ are conflicting enough to set Will’s teeth on edge.

            That, and the fact that she had called him ‘William’ for the fifth time after he had specifically told her _not_ to earlier that morning. How many times would that make in total? Thirty-three since he first asked, which was two days ago.

It was starting to become a moot point.

            He fights back the urge to sigh and simply nods-she’s not going to receive verbal acknowledgement as long as he can help it. It might be considered petty, but this is his Mom he’s dealing with, so he knows how to win a battle or two.

             “You’re sure?” she repeats again slowly.

 _‘If I wasn’t I wouldn’t be here, about to check in for my damn flight, now would I?’_ Will thinks with a biting edge, but he keeps his tongue.

            “Yes, I’m sure.” He answers, trying to keep the annoyance that’s rising in his chest at bay.

            “Vincent really doesn’t mind your company-”

_‘Biggest lie ever. Or worst observational mistake ever. Hmm…Which one sounds the most optimal coming from your mother?’_

            “Mom,” Will interrupted with an uplifted palm before swiping a couple of curly locks from his face, “either you kiss me on the cheek and hug me now, or I’m going to turn around immediately to get my luggage checked. Either way, I’m going to school in Forks, and I’ve already missed the first week of homework and what not,” ‘ _because you were being wishy-washy’_ So you decide.”

            She sighed, dropping her hands as she rushed forward to do just that.  It’s a defeat; and it takes everything Will’s got to fight back a smirk: Will-1, Mom-0. After a couple of seconds of warm embrace, she pulled back and patted his cheek fondly,

            “You call me when you get there, you hear me?” she said in a mildly stern tone, “I want to receive emails and calls _at least_ every other week. Vincent and I will be there for you if you need us.”

            Will nodded. He watches her as she turns around and walks out the door before heading towards the ticket counter and large metal slab to weigh his luggage. After being directed to the security checkpoint and arriving at his gate, he sank down into one of the deceptively comfy waiting chairs and allowed himself to unwind a bit as he took in the busy sight of people walking past him, no one looking his way, no one noticing the inconspicuous young boy with the curly mop of hair and neatly trimmed glasses examining their every move.

            He smirked as he watched a man walk by in close proximity-close enough that he could reach out and say, stab the man in the leg, ‘ _releasing copious amounts of blood thanks to our dear femoral artery’_ with a sharp enough weapon if he so wished.

            He winced as his hand involuntarily snapped the rubber band he sported on his wrist harshly against his skin. He glanced down at the horrid yellow office tool with a frown before he shifted his frown towards his traitorous hand. A couple of weeks ago, he had resolved to cut down the amount of time he thought about hurting people by using the rubber band technique, and much to his chagrin and amusement, it was doing a rather good job.

 _'It’d be easy._ ’ Will continued to think, just to spite himself, ‘ _All the people around me-I wonder: where do they all come from?_ ’

The brisk stride of a handsome and married man-his wedding ring gleams proudly in the artificial light- wearing a smart suit and tie and clutching a briefcase-

_‘The business meeting,’_

A glimpse of a couple wearing matching Virginia tourist t-shirts ushering three small children along, each carrying a stuffed animal; a tiger, a teddy bear, and a unicorn-

_‘A hotel’_

The fleeting sight of a young woman travelling alone in sensible sweats and a t-shirt reading Virginia State University,

_‘School’_

He thought of himself, traveling to a house he hasn’t seen since last summer but still felt more comfortable in than the one he now shared with his stepfather.

_‘Home.’_

           Airports offered flights to nearly anywhere around the world, Will realized lazily, his eyes watching the huge screen in front of him flicker with announcements of arrivals and departures to various cities around the states, even in some countries.

_‘Yet we all are arriving at the same destination, albeit some more quickly than others, and that is the inevitable: Death.’_

           He smirks even as his fingers fiddle with the rubber band.

           Before he even boards the airplane, he knows he’s in for a long day.

*

           The cool evening air caressing his face and the soothing scent of damp pine awakens his senses as Will steps out of the airport, alerting him that he’s just missed another shower of rain and he smiles. His dad’s police car is easy to spot in the mostly unoccupied, small, rinky-dink airport occupying a place just a little outside of Forks, his final destination for the day. He waves over to the police car and it revs up, suddenly alive as its headlights blink on.

 _‘Ah. He’s been waiting, then.’_ He realizes, and for a moment he’s struck with the curiosity of how long he’d kept his father, but it rolls away from his mind like the puffy white clouds above him.

           After the car rolls to a stop in front of him, he grabs his suitcases and watches with a familiar warmth as his Dad gets out and walks up to him, opening the back seat door after grabbing Will’s luggage and placing them inside.

           “Hey son,” Chief Daniel Graham chirps after he shuts the door to the backseat and wraps his boy into a quick bear hug. “My, it’s great to see you.”

           “You too, Dad.” Will smiled. He slid into the passenger seat, buckled up, and relaxed into the familiar leather interior. His Dad entered the car then, and after putting on his seat belt, he put the car in drive.

          “How’s your Mom?” Chief Graham asked as he kept his eyes on the road ahead. Will listened to his father’s voice waver just a tad near the end, but didn’t comment on it. For some people, he figured, love didn’t leave nearly as easily as the other person who had left them.

          Another reason to not fall in the death trap that was ‘love’.

          “Mom’s fine,” Will said, careful not to include Vincent in their conversation, “She didn’t understand why I wanted to come back here for my final year of high school.”

          To be honest, Chief Graham wasn’t quite sure why his son wanted to stay with him either, but he had learned from a very early age not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

          “Speaking of high school,” his Father drawled, his tone playful and instantly Will’s mind was sent reeling excitedly as to what was coming next, “I bought you a present.”

          “Oh?” Will inquired, “I’m assuming I’ll have to wait and see.”

          “That’s right, Will.” His Dad confirmed, shooting him a proud smile, “I can tell you what, you won’t be disappointed.”

           Will smiled at the sound of his name-the way he wanted it to be said, and added another score. Mom: 0 Dad: 1.

            After that, they fell into a comfortable conveyer belt of conversations about Virginia, his recent schooling, his plans for a career, the crime rate in Forks and its surrounding cities, the fly fishing they could enjoy when it was sunny, and the school Will was going to.

_Bing!_

Will glanced down at the phone cradled in his hands as his father continued to drive, and opened up a text.

**From: Bev**

**Hey Will! You here in Forks yet? Lemmie know, I don’t want to have to wait till you come to school to hang out. Think your Dad will let me come over? Text me back xoxo-8:30 P.M**

Will chuckled as he read it, a fond smile etched onto his face.

           “How’s Bev?” Chief Graham asked without even needing to ask who it was, his ice blue eyes finding their matching set in his son’s as the younger man looked up at his father for a moment. Will smiled up at his Dad as he replied,

            “She’s good. She wants to know if she can come over for a bit when we get home.” He explained.

            “Is that all? Tell her of course, that’s fine. Let her know we’re having spaghetti if she’s interested.” His Dad answered with a fond smile of his own on his face.

            He had watched Beverly Katz and his son grow up together since they were tykes, every summer. He had personally helped take care of Beverly’s grandmother, a surprisingly strong old woman from somewhere in Asia, from time to time, and was grateful for Beverly’s friendship towards Will.

            He knew his son had some difficulties when it came to socializing-he didn’t know whether or not he should blame himself or not for not making Will stay in Forks when he was smaller, keep him grounded instead of letting his wife- _ex-wife_ \- take him away to Virginia and ultimately lose all his friends except Beverly. Will was only four when Marsha took him, not even started kindergarten yet, but he had met the nearest neighbors, which were the Katz family, and had bonded with the eldest daughter. He knew Will wasn’t much for social gatherings; the boy had always been rather awkward when it came to having conversation with strangers.

            Then, when Will was fifteen and on summer break down with him in Forks, Will had confided in him of his turn in sexuality. Now, let it be said that Chief Daniel Graham was _not_ a homophobe-one of the greatest male figures in his life had been gay. He honestly didn’t see a single damn thing wrong with it. The only thing he had a problem with was other people and how they viewed such beliefs. He blamed it on the ‘small town mentality syndrome’.

           As he drove, the memory of the day when Will told him came back to him, still vivid and strong as if it had been yesterday; they had been fly fishing by one of the local spots he had taken Will since the boy could walk with a fishing pole in his hand and a box of tackle in the other.

           It had been a clear day; sunny, a small cotton ball cloud here and there, and the water was glimmering like liquid aquamarine. The air was melodic with the local song birds trying to outdo one another, and the two were just enjoying a nice father-son outing. Will had been unusually quiet, and Daniel knew something was on the younger boy’s mind. The Chief and his son had just solved a recent nasty rash of murders with a solid Victimology consisting of young, homosexual men near and around Forks.

            Chief Graham, like so many years before, had allowed his son to visit the crime scenes with him in order to get a better view of how the killer thought-believe it or not, Daniel knew his son had a talent. Will never got queasy, he always remained as professional as he was taught to act, and he sure as hell helped get the job done when it came to catching the killer. The boy had a gift-still does. If only his mother would realize that….

            Something about this case, however, had left his son contemplative, withdrawn, even, as they had stood there in the stream casting their lines. Daniel knew not to push-Will was a boy after his father’s heart in many respects, and Will, like his father, had a need for quiet and space in critical times like what he felt his boy was going through. Chief Graham had just reeled in his line and was about to re-cast it when Will broke the silence.

            “Dad?” Will said, his was a tone of a curious mix between apprehension and determination, making the man lower his arm and turn to his son.

            “Yes, son?” he replied, his eyes urging Will to go one. Will took a deep breath,

            “You know those murders we just solved?” Will asked, knowing full well that his father did. After a short nod from his father, he continued, the knot in his chest tightening further.

            “I, uh, it made me realize something.”

            “What did you realize Will?” Concern edged its way into the Chief’s voice.

            “I could’ve easily been one of the targets.”

            There was a slight pause, so slight a passer-by couldn’t have even registered it. It was a short moment for the rest of the world-for the trees, for the water, for the fish. But for Will, it lasted for millennia. This was major. This was potentially life-changing. He watched his father cast his line with hooded eyes as he kept his own eyes on his boots.

            “Then thank God he didn’t get you.” Daniel had responded, turning a bit towards Will, the movement in itself making the young boy look up and meet his gaze and release the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.

            A smile, warm if not weathered; eyes blue and clear with understanding. _He was okay with it._ It was _okay_. It was in that moment, along with many others that had passed and had yet to come, that Will was reminded of how amazing his father truly was. It was that moment for Daniel how much he loved his son.

            Chief Graham pulled into the drive and cut the engine with a grin on his face as he looked over at his son.

            “Welcome home!” he announced, earning a grin from his boy before the two exited the car. Will instantly spotted his gift the moment the house was in view and stopped in his tracks as he stood next to the police car, his eyes glued on his gift. It was an old Chevy pickup truck, probably made in the seventies, and was a deep russet red color. He couldn’t believe his eyes-he had expected a DVD or maybe a new tackle box, but a _truck_?

            “Dad.” Will said, his voice incredulous as he stared at the vehicle in question.

            “Yes son?”

            “That’s mine?” Will asked as he pointed to the truck. His father nodded with a wide smile on his face. Will’s obvious excitement reminded him of when Will was seven and he had let the boy have a small tube of ice cream all to himself. Will reciprocated the smile,

            “Awesome.”

            “I was hoping you’d feel that way,” his Dad chuckled, “now come on, let’s get inside so you can get set up and then after that we’ll cook that spaghetti I mentioned earlier-I bet you’re starved.”

            Will grabbed one suitcase while his Dad grabbed the other, and the two quickly entered the old, two-story house after a brief glance up at the sky indicated that another bought of rain was headed their way. Will didn’t need to think twice as his Dad guided him up the stairs to the end of the hall on the right where his room was bound to be.

            As he walked into his old room, still painted a faded baby blue, a wave of nostalgia washed over him as he took in the view of his Chester drawers beside the old oak study desk and lamp at the left side of the room occupying the window, the small bookshelf to the right of it that he’d spent every summer filling up with his favorites, and the queen sized bed taking up the opposite side of the room.

            His father had left him earlier with the other suitcase, so Will took the initiative to unpack and place his clothes in the medium sized closet facing the end of his bed. He pulled out his trusty laptop and placed it on the desk and squeezed a new and, at the moment, unread copy of _Thirteen Reasons Why_ by Jay Asher next to his childhood copy of _A Dog’s Life: The Autobiography of a Stray_ by Ann M. Martin.

            He hadn’t started Asher’s book yet, but Martin’s had made him, at the age of seven, want to take in any and all strays he would find when he was financially stable. Eleven years later, his vow was still strong and unbroken.

            He had just stowed all of his pajamas away when his Dad knocked softly at the door. Will left the room after giving one last look before turning off the lights and joining his father in the hallway.

            “Ready to make some spaghetti?” his Dad asked with an excited glint in his eyes; he had missed cooking with his son. The boy didn’t just know how to cast a line and catch a killer; he also knew how to whip up good food-a talent his father was mildly lacking in.

            Will smiled, “You bet.”

*

            Beverly pulled up into the Graham’s driveway in her Mom’s Ford and killed the engine before making a dash for the door. She had forgotten to bring her umbrella, but thankfully her Mom had kept her waterproof hoodie in the passenger seat, so she snagged it. She felt lucky that Lucy, her sister by only two years, hadn’t needed it. When Will opened the door, Beverly was met with the overwhelming sensation to hug the hell out of the curly haired boy, but she declined, hanging her jacket on the coat rack before glomping him.

            “Will!” she exclaimed as she wrapped her arms around his neck, “It’s so great to have you back!”

            Will chuckled and hugged her back, “It’s great to _be_ back.”

            She let go and side stepped in time to hug Will’s dad, “And your Dad told me and Mom and Grammy that you were coming to stay for school, too!”

            “Yeah,” Will said, re-adjusting his glasses, “I wanted to graduate here…” ‘ _where my father graduated’_ he thought as he raised his arms and let them fall back to his sides, “so here I am.”

            “Awesome,” Beverly said before clapping her hands together, “So I smell spaghetti and I didn’t eat earlier…”

            Chief Graham chuckled and motioned to the kitchen, “Come on Bev and have some spaghetti with us-we also put together some salad and garlic bread thanks to Will.”

            Beverly raised an eyebrow and smirked at Will as his Dad left them in the living room, “You’d make such a wonderful wife.” She said lovingly. Will puffed out his chest even as he blushed,

            “Thanks, I’ve learned a lot from watching recordings of ‘ _The Chew’_ with Mom.”

            “How’s she doing, anyway?” Beverly asked as they walked into the kitchen and started stacking their plates with steaming food. Will lowered his head and shot a worried glance at his oblivious father’s backside as the man attended to the garlic bread in the oven and sighed.

            “I’ll tell you about it later.” He whispered before they began to dig in.

*

            The two childhood friends sat on his bed side by side as Will traced the white dotted swirl patterns on his navy blue and white covers and Beverly watched as he worried his lower lip in thought.

            “So what’s up?” Beverly asked quietly. She waited patiently for him to speak, and when he did she found herself torn between wanting to tear out throats and cry impassively. Such was the life of being a best friend.

            “You know that Mom got re-married,” Will said matter-of-factly, and she nodded, “well, the dude she got married to-his name’s Vincent-he’s a real nice guy.”

            “Okay..”

            “He loves my Mom.”

            “Alright..”

            “He’s nice to me.”

            “….”

            “She’s happy.” Will bit out, and then sighed. Beverly placed a hand on his shoulder and began to rub his back soothingly.

            “I don’t know why this is bothering me,” Will rambled as he held his head in his hands, “I mean she deserves happiness, right? I think so. And she’s found it. And that’s great-fabulous, even. I’m happy for her. But...” he looked up at the door and was silent.

            “Your father.” Beverly said knowingly, her small hand still moving in wide, slow circles on his back.

            He turned to her and looked into her all-knowing eyes, “I look at him and it’s painfully obvious that he still loves her. I want him to be happy too, but I can’t. I _can’t do anything about it_.”

            “Will…”

            “I feel so bad for him, Bev! I can literally _feel_ his pain as if it were my own. It hurts so much.” Will shuddered, suddenly finding himself hating the strange empathic ability he had.

            “Will, I’ll tell you right now,” Beverly declared with a determined tone in her voice that made him look up at her again, “you’re making his life better now. Because you chose to come and stay with him, you’re helping him not be so lonely. He loves you.”

            Will smiled, “Yeah, you’re right about that.”

            Beverly scoffed playfully, “Hell yeah I’m right! When am I not?”

            Will opened his mouth to tell her exactly when she hadn’t been, like that one time she convinced him that they could make the jump across one of the many brooks behind his house and they ended up sopping wet because of her miscalculation, but the look on her face told him she’d deck him with her crazy martial arts abilities if he uttered even a word against her, so he smirked instead.

            “Feeling better?” she asked with the slightest tilt of her head.

            “Yeah.” He replied with a soft smile. She slid off the bed and stretched,

            “Good, ‘cause we have school tomorrow and I’ll be damned if I don’t see you there. We can go to Dante’s and grab ourselves a slice of pizza or something after school if you want.”

            “That sounds awesome.” Will grinned.

            Beverly grinned at him as she leaned against the doorframe, “I know, I thought of it.”

            “Pssh. Get out of here!” Will declared playfully, throwing his pillow at her and failing miserably as the Asian dodged with enough grace to look natural, not practiced. Beverly smirked and tossed it back onto his bed before pecking him on the cheek and headed out the door.

            “I’ll text you when I get home!” she called over her shoulder.

            “You better!” Will replied with a sleepy smile. He glanced at the clock and sighed contently.

            **_10:05 P.M._**

            That gave him plenty of time to shower, brush his teeth and get changed, so he did just that. When he sank into his bed he checked his inbox and smiled at the text Beverly had sent a couple of minutes ago.

            **From: Bev**

**Hey so I’m home, can’t wait to show you around the school. It’ll be fab, ttyl G’night -10:58 P.M.**

            Funny enough, Will almost couldn’t wait for her to show him around too.

            **To: Bev**

**‘Night. -11:10 P.M**

 A knock on his door made him look up and he smiled at his Dad.

            “Good night, Will.” Chief Graham said from the doorway.

            “Good night, Dad. Can you please turn off the lights for me as you go out?”

            His father smiled, “Sure, son.” He turned off the lights and shut the door behind him as he made his way back to his own room. Will smiled and slid under the covers with a content smile on his face.

            He had made the right decision in coming to Forks. He knew it in his bones.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentioning of Fall Out Boy coz… I like them. And ‘Macbeth’, coz… Scotland. Can't go wrong with Scotland. Or Ireland, for that matter. I must say: the quote by king Duncan is also my all-time favorite, not gonna lie. Hope you enjoy!

_Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Bee-_

            Will smacked his alarm clock, kicked the covers away and off the bed, and relished the still quiet of the morning. He cracked open his eyes and slowly took in the blurry world around him before he reached his arm out again and grabbed his glasses, unfolding them and shoving them onto his face with practiced ease that came with years of experience. He propped himself up with his elbows and looked over at the window, still showing the morning darkness that would soon be overwhelmed by morning’s first light.

After spending a couple of seconds adjusting to the dimness of his room, he rolled out of bed and landed on the balls of his feet, wincing a little as the cold hardwood floor seeped into his skin. Walking on his tip-toes until his body was warm enough to step flat-footed, he walked out into the hallway and into the unoccupied bathroom.

            He made quick work of going through his morning routine of washing his face and brushing his teeth before he found himself standing in front of his closet, having a mental debate that could be compared to a meeting in Congress on what to wear for his first day of school. A couple of minutes passed by as he flipped through the shirts in his closet and he let out a frustrated growl before he scooped up his phone and texted Beverly.

            **To: Bev**

**Idk wth to wear help me out here -6:04 A.M.**

**From: Bev**

**Clothes. Ha, lol um wear that black ACDC shirt w/your red plaid shirt over it &those red converse shoes you’ve had since like, ever. That help? -6:07 A.M.**

Will glanced over at his closet, rummaged through it and pulled out the clothes she had described before throwing them onto his bed.

            **To: Bev**

**Yeah that actually does help. I’m not even gonna question how you knew I had those articles of clothing. -6:10 A.M.**

**From: Bev**

**Psh. I know you, that’s how. -6:11 A.M**

            He rolled his eyes, and briefly wondered on a scale from one to ten, how scared he should be that she _did_ know him. Probably an eleven-no, a twelve. She’d been his friend since the moment the Katz family welcomed his newlywed parents to Forks after moving up from Louisiana. He had been four at the time, and Beverly was three- the oldest of her siblings, and had bravely walked up to him as he cowered behind his Mother’s pant leg. After a quick round of babbling nonsense, the two struck up a friendship to last throughout the ages.

He smiled softly at the thought and dressed quickly before throwing on a denim jacket he’d gotten for Christmas a year ago from his Mom and tromped down the stairs. Downstairs in the kitchen he spotted a box of Pop-tarts sitting conspicuously on the counter and padded over to inspect it. He grabbed the box on the counter and peeled off a yellow sticky note attached to it and read the note:

            **_Hey son, sorry I couldn’t be there to see you off to school. Work called. I bought these for you yesterday morning-hope you still like brown sugar cinnamon ones. –Love, Dad_**

            “Hell yeah I still love the brown sugar cinnamon ones.” he said happily to no one in particular as he popped the pastries into the toaster before pouring himself a glass of milk. He ate quickly and rinsed his dishes before leaving them in the sink so he could place them in the dishwasher when he got home. For a moment he took the time to feel proud of his Father for upgrading from hand washing his dishes to buying himself the luxury item. Will could understand that the bachelor life didn’t exactly require much, but that didn’t mean his Dad couldn’t splurge a bit for himself. The old man damned well deserved it.

The morning air was bitter cold as he stepped outside, and Will was grateful for tan wool-like insulin lining the inside of his jacket. He had grabbed the keys to the truck from the hook on the wall next to the door before letting it close with a soft _click!_ and as he revved up the engine, he sighed in relief as the heater kicked in without any problems. Dad sure knew how to not leave him hanging, unlike someone else he knew.

            Mom: 0 Dad: 2

            He frowned as he looked down at the jacket he was wearing and begrudgingly gave a point to the woman who’d bought it for him.

            Mom: 1 Dad: 2

            He popped a CD into his portable CD player and slid the headphones on, not knowing what to expect since it was unmarked and he hadn’t been fully awake when he’d picked it out earlier. The first three bars to _‘Thriller’_ by Fall Out Boy strummed into his head and he shrugged before putting the truck in reverse and tore down the driveway towards the school, his finger tapping along to the beat on the steering wheel.

            “ _I can take all your problems away with the nod and a wave of my hand, because that’s just the kind of boy that I am~_ ” he sang along, a wide grin on his face as clusters of pine trees rush past him into a thick blur of green. If Beverly was there, she would have been belting it along with him.

            By the time he had reached the school parking lot, he had slowed from a relaxing 65 MPH to an excruciatingly slow crawl of only 5 MPH. He turned down the volume of his headphones as it continued to play, this time playing track 7- the French horns signaling the start of ‘ _Thanks for the Memories_ ’ -were they French horns? He’d look that up later- letting him know just how much time it had taken to get to campus. Roughly twenty-one minutes-he’d remember that for future reference. It always helped to know how much sleep-in time he could steal when necessary.

He eased further into the lot, his eyes glued to the parking spot in adjacent to him when he slammed on the brakes and barely avoided getting sideswiped by a sterling silver Mercedes-Benz as it materialized from out of nowhere and whipped right into the spot he had his eyes on.

            Will’s blood began to boil as he stared at the car, unable to see the driver’s side. For a second, he thought about getting out of his car and mouthing off to the son of a bitch, but after releasing a shaky sigh he rolled away and drove around, finding another parking spot an isle over. Even as he pulled into a spot between a yellow 89’ Mustang and a dark blue Altima, he muttered curses to himself under his breath.

            _Fuck you Mr. Mercedes, Fuck you Mr. Mercedes, Fuck you Mr. Mercedes…_

            It was his new mantra.

            It wasn’t even the fact that Mr. Mercedes-Benz had taken the parking spot in the first place, oh no, that wasn’t the cause of his now sore jaw from clenching it shut too tight for too long.

It was the fact that it had almost _hit_ Will’s new (okay, so it was old and rusty looking, but it was new to _him_ ) truck that his _Dad_ had _bought_ for him. He’d only had it for barely a couple of hours and it was already his baby. Will looked at it this way:

            If he couldn’t have a dog yet, then he at least had his truck.

            His Dad had already promised at dinner last night that he would go over the inner workings of the engine with Will when he got the time, and Will would be damned if his truck wasn’t in the same condition it had been when he had left that morning for his Dad to inspect. A ravaging part of his brain screamed at him to stop the car, jump out and cut up the driver’s insides before smearing the blood all over the windows and headlights.

            _‘How would that look, I wonder, if I were to paint his headlights red with his own blood?’_ Will’s mind whispered, _‘Would the lights shine red? If so, wouldn’t that just be a beautiful sight.’_

_Smack! Smack!_

            The thoughts quickly evaporated as his wrist inflamed angrily under the rubber band, his pulse point throbbing as his heart pounded against his chest with enough force to hurt. He forced his mind to return back to its original state of mild happiness before he could be tempted again to think so freely about ending another’s life.

He killed the engine and unplugged the headphones after turning the contraption off. He glanced at the CD player before shoving it into his backpack and shut the truck door, careful to lock it behind him. As he walked, he thought about the CD player jiggling in one of the backpack’s pockets and smiled; Beverly had given it to him as a birthday present when they were young, and ever since then he hadn’t seen the point in catching up with his peers and investing in an iPod or whatever the hell they were using to listen to music nowadays.

            They weren’t really his peers anyway, when he thought about it. Peers were likeminded individuals who shared many defining qualities between them. Trying to group him amongst his ‘peers’ was like trying to place a mongoose in a cage with a den of cobras. It was bold, it was ignorant, and it was dangerous.

Will figured he was being practical, saving his money as he asked for CDs during Christmas time and birthdays, but if he really were to examine himself he’d have to admit he was actually being sentimental.

            Calling himself ‘practical’ sounded safer, though.

            It wasn’t as if he were afraid of sentimentality, he was just cautious. He wasn’t about to start calling himself a robot or a machine-if anything, on the contrary, Will felt _too much_. He had always been good at understanding other people’s emotions, albeit not his own very well, so he felt he knew how dangerous they could be when channeled the wrong way (or, maybe for some, the right way).

            Will had read up on the facts: a great majority of homicides were committed due to seemingly ‘normal’ emotions such as love, jealousy, and anger. Each of these were expected to be harbored inside a person, however sometimes the emotions became too strong and broke out-causing death and mayhem, along with a whole slew of new emotions such as sadness, betrayal, and revenge.

            Dealing with emotions was sloppy business, the whole lot of it, in Will’s mind, and so from a very early age he had been determined not to fall prey to his emotions (mainly love and infatuation since those sometimes lead to jealousy, which could lead to hatred, ect. ect. Again: _sloppy._ ) if he could help it. If he thought about it, he was sure he could place where his distaste with emotions started, and that was with the divorce of his parents ten years ago. When he watched their marriage fall apart, he _knew_ that finding someone who was willing to commit was a fantasy, or at least a very rare, very precious thing that he felt he didn’t stand a chance in finding for himself. So why bother?

             A small (and rather loud) part of him knew it was foolish to desire a partner who would love him and cherish him, because he’d never seen that kind of relationship in his own life, and normally he could overrule the desire. Besides, his sexuality would make it a lot harder to find temptation when  no one around would ever be interested in the likes of him anyway, especially in such a small town where he just knew that everybody’s business was open to everybody else. In a place like Forks, there were no secrets. Only little white lies. He’d just have to live his entire life as a secluded, dog hoarding prude.

            Okay, so that would be the truth all the way up to being a ‘prude’. Will had had his fair share of sexual experimentation back in Virginia, so you couldn’t really call him a ‘virgin’.

            _‘Hah, I can hear them now, wanting to call me “the virgin from Virginia”. That’s definitely not going to happen’._ Will chuckled at his own joke as he swerved in between parked cars, his eyes on the Mercedes-Benz to see if someone would get out of it but after a while of watching no one did, so he gave up. After a giving a quick sweep of the buildings (there were four-three appeared to contain classrooms while the fourth served as the school’s gym) in front of him, he marched on towards the one marked ‘MAIN’ and sighed contently as he felt heat curl up around him when he entered.

             He didn’t even know he was tense until his shoulders fell back on their own and he took a deep breath before walking up to who he felt was obviously the administrator, based on the positioning of her desk (front and center), its condition (papers strewn about and a thermos planted squarely on her desk) and her behavior as well as her appearance (she was typing away on a beaten up keyboard, her brown hair swept up into a bun and her glasses gleaming thanks to the computer monitor’s glow). He watched her work for a second more before he stepped up to the desk and coughed.

             She looked up at him sharply, her fingers still typing away on the keyboard even as she smiled up at him. After sneaking a quick glance at her name plate he spoke.

             “Hello Mrs. Crawford.” he said politely as he glanced into mocha eyes that matched her skin. She stopped typing and clasped her hands in front of her,

             “You must be William Graham.” she said knowingly, a wide ivory smile blooming on her face as she reached out for a file and pulled a couple of sheets of paper from it before handing them to him.

            “Yes, I, uh, I go by ‘Will’,” he explained, although he doubted she would remember. “It’s a small town, huh?”

            She nodded, “Well, your Father is police chief,” she chuckled, “and you are the first new student we’ve had in a long time-but that wasn’t how I knew it was you.”

            He furrowed his eyebrows at her, “Uh, may I ask how?”

            “You’ve got your Father’s eyes.” she explained, and when she saw that he was still confused, she continued on with a fond smile as if she were recalling an old memory, “Your Father, my husband-Jack, and I, we all went to school together. He actually introduced me to Jack and Danny was Jack’s best man at our wedding.”

            Will’s eyes widened behind his glasses and he grinned at the sound of his father’s apparent nickname, “Whoa, that’s awesome. He never told me that.”

            “He’s a humble man,” she said with a delicate shrug. She looked at the clock and gestured towards the papers he now was holding in his hands, “You better get along to your first class, Will. It’s in building two, fifth door down the hall on the left-English Lit. You can’t miss it.”

            He nodded and at the door he waved goodbye to her, and she waved goodbye back while still typing one-handedly. He had to hand it to her, she was one talented woman. Plus, she called him ‘Will’. He declined from putting her name on the scoreboard and instead followed her directions and walked into his first class for his first day of senior year.

            Up until this point he hadn’t really thought about the fact that he’d have to stand up in front of the class and introduce himself in front of twenty-four pairs of watching- _judging_ -eyes, and the sudden realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He swallowed down the heaviness in his chest and tried his best to ignore the curious eyes boring into his skull as he walked up to the teacher at his desk.

            Mr. Merriweather, as Will soon found out after taking a double glance down at the name on his schedule, was a mean-looking old bird, probably in his late seventies and had probably served at the school-maybe even attended the school-for at least forty years, give or take. Hell, he might have even taught his _Dad._ The man was stout, and when he stood up he reached just a tad under Will’s nose and his hazel eyes bore into Will’s blue ones with strength that seemed to defy his age.

            Will quickly dodged the man’s attempts to make eye-contact, opting to use his height advantage to the fullest.

            The man radiated dominance like bad body odor, although as Will gave a sniff he could only smell fresh detergent and mint. Will looked down at the man’s hands as he offered it and noticed he was married, probably to a frail-looking lady who liked to garden, and bake cookies, and do other grandparent things. As Will returned the gesture with a slightly tremoring hand, he suddenly wondered just how many grandkids he did have, and more importantly, ‘ _did this man ever serve in the military?’_

           “Good morning,” Mr. Merriweather said, his voice low and gravelly, “welcome. You must be Graham.”

           Will retrieved his trembling hand and stuck it into the front pocket of his jeans, “yes Sir,” he replied as he glanced wearily at the students in front of them, “my name is Will.”

           Mr. Merriweather smiled, crow’s feet showing up at the corners of his eyes and Will immediately added another observation to his list: this man knew how to smile, and must love to laugh, with laugh lines like that. The elder gestured grandly to the class and patted Will on the back,

           “Class,” he said, demanding their already undivided attention on the newcomer, “this is Will Graham, the chief’s son. Let’s make him feel welcome here at Forks High.”

           Will’s eyes shifted to the crowd to watch several people smile up at him and he offered one back, albeit it was rather weak and his eyes weren’t trained on them. Mr. Merriweather pointed to an empty seat to the far left by the windows, in front of as well as behind two girls. As soon as he sat down, Mr. Merriweather instructed the class to take out their notebooks, a pencil, and their copy of _‘Macbeth’_ so they could begin their daily discussion about the previous act and scene they had read for homework the night before.

           Will smiled to himself and thanked his lucky stars he had already read _‘Macbeth’_ in his old school in Virginia, and watched nervously as the two girls sitting in front and behind him grabbed their desks and formed a circle around him.

The wavy haired brunette, her blue eyes glittering up at him, introduced herself first.

           “Hi,” she said cordially, “I’m Alana-Alana Bloom.” She pointed to the curly, fiery redhead across from her and on the other side of Will and smiled,

“That’s Freddie Lounds.”

           The blue eyed redhead waved at him and grinned mischievously,

           “Hello, Will.”

           “Hi.” He managed not to stutter, “It’s nice to meet you two.” He opened his book and watched as they did the same, “So, um, which act and scene are we discussing?”

           “Act one, scene four.” Alana answered. Will flipped to it in the book and fought back the urge to grin.

           “Ah, okay,” Will said knowingly to himself, “this has my favorite quote of all time in it.”

           “And which one is that?” Freddie asked with a tilt of her head. He looked up at her, startled that he had spoken out-loud and managed to work up a weak smile before reciting the quote by heart.

           “ _There’s no art to find the mind’s construction in the face.”_ It was said by King Duncan, right here.” Will explained, pointing at the text. He noticed Freddie’s approving nod and felt himself relax just a tiny bit.

           “That is quite true,” Alana commented offhandedly as she looked down at the text, “it’s basically like saying ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’. Shakespeare had it in his day just like we do now.”

           “Some things never change.” Will mumbled knowingly. He couldn’t count how many times he had come face to face with innocent enough looking people only to find out they were the orchestrators of heinously beautiful crimes. One thing was for sure: everyone had the potential to commit a crime.

           Every once and a while, Will would stare into the bathroom mirror and wonder what people thought they saw in his face. Whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t _him_. He sometimes didn’t even know what he saw in his own reflection, and that realization would most often than not send him scurrying away out of the bathroom and under the covers of his bed.

           “Mhmm,” Freddie chimed dreamily as she stared past Alana’s head, “and some things never will. Like the fact that Mr. Merriweather’s got a smoking hot grandson.”

           Will raised an eyebrow at that and looked to Alana but the brunette just shook her head and smirked playfully,

           “Benton Merriweather,” she explained in hushed tones as the teacher walked by and collected their worksheets covering the act and scene, “he’s a senior, like us. He’s got wavy blond hair and brown eyes? He’s kind of tall?”

           Will shrugged, “I haven’t seen him around yet, you know, since I’m new and all.” He replied meekly, without the biting sarcasm he had intended to use. It wouldn’t do to start making enemies so quickly.

           Alana face-palmed herself and chuckled good naturedly, “Wow, I’m an idiot. It’s only been a class period and I’ve forgotten. Its just-this is going to sound nuts, but it feels like you’ve been here all along, going to school here and what not.”

           Will furrowed his eyebrows and pushed the bridge of his glasses back up onto his nose as Freddie nodded enthusiastically,

           “I agree. You’ll get along here great.”

           “Thanks… So do you guys know Beverly?” he asked, hoping they were on good terms. He could’ve let out a sigh of relief as he watched both of their faces light up. The bell rang and the group packed up their belongings.

           “Hell yeah we do!” Freddie laughed as they walked out into the hallway, “She’s awesome.”

           “Speaking of Bev!” Alana exclaimed as she nodded over to the other end of the hall. Will turned to where she was mentioning and watched as Beverly walked up to them, dressed in a pair of worn blue jeans and navy blue polo.

           “What’s up girls?” she called out, a wide smile on her face as she caught up to them. Will watched as the other kids in the hallway freely gave her high-fives and smiles as she walked past them and his heart swelled at the fact that she was doing so well in school. She gave Will a big hug and grinned at Freddie and Alana.

           “I see you two have met my dear friend Will.” She said before grabbing the boy’s schedule for examination.

           Freddie’s eyes were huge, “You’re friends?” she asked, her mouth slightly agape. Alana elbowed her in the ribs and Freddie quickly composed herself as she sheepishly tugged on the sleeves of her green turtleneck, “I mean, that’s cool.”

           “Yeah, we’ve been friends ever since we were little.” Will explained proudly with a small smile as he watched Beverly examine his schedule.

           “Let’s see… Oh! Okay, so you’ve got Anatomy next-so do I!” Beverly beamed up at Will and looped her arm through his, “alright girls, we’re off! See you in Art class!”

           He waved a tiny goodbye to them and felt the queasiness in his stomach instantly dissipate as Beverly lead him through the halls and out towards building three. It kind of reminded him of older times, when they were going on another adventure behind his house-Beverly standing tall and taking lead while dragging an unsure and cautious Will alongside her.

           “You look hella adorable by the way.” Beverly said as Will opened the door for her to go first. Will smiled as he looked down and gripped the front of his ACDC shirt,

           “I did have great advice,” he said before adding, “and you look good too.”

           She grinned and punched him playfully in the arm, “damn straight.” They stopped in front of the door to the classroom and she touched his arm,

           “Now, I won’t be able to sit by you, since its assigned seating and shit,” she explained, the annoyance clear in her voice, “the guy you’ll have to sit by doesn’t normally show up anyway but if he does then, well, you’ll be fine.”

           Will opened his mouth to ask just what in Apollo’s name did she mean by all that, but she had already opened the door and was dragging him along with her.

           They were still early enough that most of the students hadn’t arrived yet, so after a brief introduction with Mrs. Kennesaw, Will was directed to sit at the unoccupied table in the front row to the far right hand side, nearest the door. Will nodded and watched as Beverly dropped her bag at her table before joining him to talk a bit more.

           “So what did you mean earlier-about the guy I’ll have to sit with?” he asked as he rested his head down on his folded arms. He looked up at her expectantly as she rocked a bit in the stool.

           “Well,” she answered with her eyes on the door, “he’s kind of different. Not in a bad way, mind you, he’s very nice and extremely polite-I’m talking downright _gentleman_ , always saying ‘thank you’ and ‘please’ and what not, but he’s a bit on the quiet side and doesn’t talk very much to other people. He’s quite intelligent, too. His name is-” the sound of the bell cut her off, her eyes widening a bit a she stepped out of the stool and she smiled.

           “Absent-because he’s not here today.” She said matter-of-factly, “Well, okay then.” She gave him a hug and walked over to her desk.

           “Who’s not here? What’s his name?” he asked, but she only winked at him. Will cursed her for her theatrics and love for mysticism as he glared holes into the back of her head.

           He listened with mild interest as Mrs. Kennesaw explained the general positons of the body: supine-lying on one’s back, prone-lying face down, and the major regions of the body, including the cephalic, cervical, dorsal… Everything they were discussing, he’d learned it back in eleventh grade. So what classes did he have now that he wasn’t already ahead of?

           He kept his head up anyway, and answered questions (“very good, Will, that’s correct!”) whenever he was called on, although he didn’t make it a point to actively raise his hand. When class was over, Beverly walked him to Government and Economics.

           “What classes are you _not_ ahead of?” Beverly asked teasingly. Will threw his hands up in the air,

           “I know, right? I’m sitting in class and I’m just like ‘gee, that’s cool. I’ve already learned this last year’. I think-no, I’m sure-Gov and Econ are the only subjects I haven’t taken yet.”

           “You’re not going to grow bored of school on me, are you?” Beverly asked in mock concern, pointing a finger at his chest.

           “Nah, Bev, I won’t. I don’t mind going over what they’re teaching-there’s probably some things I’ve forgotten that I’ll relearn this year, ya know?”

           "Like what?”

           He thought about it for a second and responded with “like the circulatory system.”

           “Yeah…” she rolled her eyes, “so hey, lunch is right after this, so text me when you get to the café and I’ll wave you over to my table, alright?” Beverly instructed with a warm smile. Will’s chest tightened with equal parts hope and anxiety at the prospect of making friends with Beverly’s people.

           He nodded and she patted his arm before hauling it down to building one in time to get to Art class and more importantly, to Alana and Freddie.

           This classroom’s layout was similar to his English classroom-rows upon rows of individual desks, and posters plastered to the wall-this time depicting images related to the United States government and overall to its history. He spotted the American flag near the door and the Pledge of Allegiance typed out and laminated next to it.

           Above the door and tacked around the perimeter of the walls was a banner reading “We the People” in big, cursive letters before drawling out into the long spiel that was the preamble to the Constitution. The words to the preamble popped into his head and he found himself singing along in his head to it with the tune used by one of the episodes to ‘ _Schoolhouse Rock’_.

_'We the people, in order to form a more perfect union, establish justice, ensure domestic tranquility, provide for the common defense, promote the general welfare and, secure the blessings of liberty to ourselves, and our posterity, do ordain, and establish this constitution, for the United States of America.’_

No one had to know he knew that song or that he had known that song since he was eight years old. No. One.

           “You’re Will Graham, right?”

           The inquiring voice pulled him out of his head and Will turned around to look at a boy seated behind him. The boy wore a dark blue sweater vest and a white collared shirt underneath as he looked up at Will with equally dark blue eyes. If Will didn’t know any better, it looked as if this kid came from money.

           “Uh, yes, I am. And you are…?”

           The boy chuckled, “Where are my manners? I’m James Price, but please, call me ‘Jimmy’, everybody else does.” He turned to the boy behind him who was busy doodling in his composition book, “Isn’t that right Bri?”

           The boy behind him raised his curly dark brown head and stared up at Jimmy with a mixture of fondness and confusion. Will admired his Led Zeppelin shirt with a twinge of envy.

           “Is what right?” he asked, “sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

           “No worries,” Jimmy replied, “I was just telling Will here that everyone calls me ‘Jimmy’.”

           The boy grinned, “Oh! That’s right,” he said, this time looking up at Will. Will caught the hues of bluish grey in the boy’s eyes before he looked away.

           “I’m Brian Zeller, by the way. Love your shirt.” Brian continued amicably.

           Will smiled softly, “Nice to meet you. I can say the same thing about yours.”

           “Likewise.” Jimmy chirped, eyeing Will’s ACDC shirt with an interest that is betrayed by his style of clothing, but Will wouldn’t judge. Alana’s words about his favorite quote rang true once again in his mind.

 _'You can’t judge a book by its cover._ ’

           Another thought entered into his mind, and he noticed that it’s bitter, sarcastic even. He smirked despite that fact.

_‘You may not be able to use the cover, but you surely can judge a book by its reviews.’_

            Jimmy gestured to the empty seat nearest to the door and to the right of his own desk.

            “You might as well park it here,” he explained, “it’s been empty since day one and I’m sure Mr. Smith will place you here anyway-no need to stand around.”

            Will nodded and slid into the seat.

            “So where are you coming from?” Brian asked.

            “Well, I was born in Louisiana, but I’ve been living in Virginia for a greater majority of my life.” Will explained, a mental image of his Mother and Vincent popping up into his mind for a split second before going back in time when he was very young, maybe three, and the house his parents once occupied somewhere in the French Quarter. That was back before Mom left and took Will with her. Soon after, Will found out his Dad couldn’t take living in a house that held constant reminders of their failed marriage, and had shipped off as far away as possible to Forks to start a new life.

            “Wow,” Jimmy whistled lowly, “some trip! How do you like it, here in Forks?”

            Will smiled a little as he stared down at his hands, “It’s great. I’m staying with my Father.” He looked up at Jimmy for a second before returning his gaze back to his hands, and the rubber band on his wrist. Brian seemed to be holding a look of mutual understanding that made Will feel a tad bit better for sharing.

            “So, um, do you guys know Beverly Katz?” he asked after remembering Alana’s and Freddie’s reactions to the name. He looked up to see that Jimmy’s and Brian’s were no different as the two sported wide grins.

            “Yeah man,” Brian exclaimed. He reached forward and patted Jimmy on the back, “We’ve been friends with Katz for like, ever. I’ve been friends with her for almost as long as I’ve been friends with Jimmy over here.”

            Brian couldn’t see it, but Will definitely noticed Jimmy’s face turn a bit sanguine at that comment. Will refrained from commenting on it and tilted his head.

_‘Interesting. Maybe I’m not the only one here who plays for the same team.’_

            “Why’d you ask?” Brian inquired as he watched Will.

            “She’s also my friend,” Will explained with a soft chuckle, “more like my kid sister, than anything.”

            Brian hummed knowingly, and was about to respond when Mr. Smith walked into the room.

            They all were asked to rise and stand to cite the Pledge of Allegiance, and after they sat back down into their seats the intercom above their heads turned on. Will barely listened as a female voice reported the upcoming events such as the annual blood drive for students sixteen and up, the football game scheduled for next Friday against a rival school and the Art club’s car wash fundraiser taking place on Saturday in front of the local deli that apparently, one of the club member’s parents owned.

            All of it could be classified as ‘boring stuff’, in Will’s oh-so-humble opinion, except for the car wash-Beverly had told him she was the president of the Art club, and his new truck could use a good rinse down. Thanks to the surprising gift from his Dad, Will now had a bunch of cash lying around that he had intentionally wanted to use to purchase a car, but now that he had a truck, all bets were off. Not like he was planning on buying anything anyway, but some new tackle gear for his collection would be nice, maybe even a new CD.

            After the announcements, Mr. Smith turned to Will. Will held back a sigh and begrudgingly stood up.

            The introductions were blessedly short, almost as short as Mr. Smith, who had to stand at least 5 foot even. Mr. Smith was quick to explain to Will that the class would be going over Government for the first half of the year, and then Economics for the latter half, and now they’re covering the early colonization of America.

            Will nodded along understandingly enough, hoping the man would get the message that he didn’t need much else. Mr. Smith smiled gratefully and deemed his newest student as ‘caught up’ and dismissed him before staring on with their newest lesson: The Boston Massacre.

            Will was grateful for the darkness of the room as the projector on the screen filled a little bit of light with information. He smiled down at his paper as he took meticulous notes, his thoughts returning again and again to the realization of just how far the early Americans were willing to go to earn freedom, like using espionage and guerilla warfare as the British walked around wearing big, red targets on their backs, basically screaming to the emerging country to shoot them.

 _‘War used to be so cut and dry-face your enemies and pray to the Almighty that you won’t get hit,’_ he thought ruefully with a well-hidden smirk, ‘ _until America decided it had had enough of Britain’s bullshit and started to adapt.’_

             He figured, as a class he’s never taken before, it’s really not too bad.

             The bell tolled soon enough, signifying lunch time, and for once in his life Will felt hungry enough to actually eat during the miniscule break. Usually, he would linger around his locker and try not to be noticed by his fellow classmates in his old school. He didn’t know if it was the new climate or the prospect of being around Beverly and her friends, but regardless, he packed his things all up and gratefully walked out with Jimmy and Brian in tow.

             For such a small school, the cafeteria is humongous. The lunchroom is crowded, too crowded, too many moving bodies and noises and distractions for him, and he swears to himself that he doesn’t have ADD, he’s just _detail orientated_. It doesn’t seem to matter anyway, since the lunch lines are short enough that he is able to grab a sandwich, an apple and bottled water all without jostling his tray too much and bumping into the person in front of him.

             He raised his head up and forced himself to survey the room for any signs of Beverly on his own, having lost Jimmy and Brian to the complimentary pizza and salad bar. He’s standing still in a sea of moving bodies, his blue eyes scanning, scanning, but he can’t seem to find anyone until a flash of fiery red hair that could only belong to Freddie catches his attention from the far corner of his right eye.

              Tray in hand, Will turned around sharply and rammed right into what appeared at first to his overwhelmed senses as a brick wall, with enough force to wiggle his glasses off kilter just a bit.

              “Sorry…” he muttered, his eyes glued to the miracle that was his tray-somehow, no food or bottle had been knocked off in the altercation, and although Will wasn’t quite sure how it was possible, he wasn’t going to start questioning his obvious blessings. He kept his eyes glued to the floor as he re-adjusted the bridge of his glasses to its proper place.

 _‘Great, day one and I’m already potentially knee deep in shit,’_ Will grimaced at the thought-there was no way in hell he’d be able to withstand causing a scene on day one. _‘Fuck me.’_

              “Did you do it on purpose?”

              The voice is husky, low and thick with a European accent that leaves Will racking his brain to place it, with no promising results. In the matter of milliseconds, his brain has lead him to two countries-Lithuania and Latvia, but the teeter-totter is leaning ever so slightly to the former.

              Regardless of where he’s from, he’s obviously not a native, and to top it off, his voice is entrancing-Will automatically recognizes it is a voice not only to be listened to, but followed. His eyes traveled up from the boy’s creamy sanguine sweater- _‘probably cashmere’_ -and stop at his eyes. Will took in a sharp intake of air as he examined their color before his eyes darted back to the floor, the wall, the place just above the boy’s right shoulder-anywhere safer than the boy’s eyes.

 _‘I’d like to change my original statement: Fuck me, please.’_ His Mother and Father always did make sure to drill it into him to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’-he tried to believe that his parents hadn’t (separately) raised a heathen.

              As he stares at the floor, he reflects upon what he saw in those eyes. They’re dark brown and sharp, like the whisky he’d nicked from his Mother’s liquor cabinet when he was fourteen, and although the contact was brief, he knows that if he isn’t careful, they’ll be twice as intoxicating.

              The boy’s question registers quickly into his brain and he shakes his head, mindful of the bouncy curls that follow the movement closely. “No, it was-” _‘heaven sent’ ‘destiny’ ‘serendipitous’_ Will misses a beat and the boy seems to sense it.

              “An accident,” the boy finishes for him smoothly. Will forces himself to look up and meet his gaze as he continues, “Then there is no need to apologize.”

              Maybe it’s just him, but despite the warmth he’s feeling in the other boy’s gaze, Will’s mind is starting to pick up on things that he isn’t entirely sure is real or not. Like there’s something moving underneath the other person’s stare-it reminds him of the ice that tended to coat the local lakes in Virginia during the winter, like the lazy, shifting silt in the Mississippi river. As the two of them share this extremely fleeting moment, Will can sense it; the chilling undertone hiding beneath an unseen and nearly intangible well placed layer of façade. They’re calculating him, watching him.

              He’s seen eyes like these before, hundreds of eyes just like these-not all the same shape and size and hue, but they still contained the same layer of disguise. These eyes could haunt him in his dreams, give him nightmares. Few and many things could give Will Graham nightmares, and one of them was the eyes of a predator.

_‘That’s why I hate mirrors...’_

              Will tried his best to conjure up a smile, and in response the corners of the boy’s eyes crinkled just a bit, as if it were his own way of smiling back. There is a bit of humor projecting from his ruggedly tan features, but it’s gone too quickly and is replaced with a pure flash of ‘something’ as he continues to look down at Will, calculating and measuring him again. Will’s words caught in his throat, and he’d try to swallow if only it hadn’t just become one-hundred percent harder to breathe. His lips parted unconsciously as he considered swerving away and chugging the contents of his bottled water.

              The movement didn’t go unnoticed, and for a split second Will thought he saw the boy’s whisky eyes turn to licorice. He’s pretty sure he also saw him take in a deep breath too, as if he’d actually smelled him-but that's ridiculous, right? Right.

              Bewildered into silence, Will watched the boy give him a terse nod before sliding by, their bodies _almost_ touching. His side felt electric, buzzing with nerves and uncomfortable warmth flooded through him like a flashflood. Will looks down at his watch to see how much time has truly passed, because saying that their… whatever it was, interaction, lasted a millennia, would be impossible.

              Twenty-five seconds, maybe thirty tops. He shook his head and walked over to where he had originally spotted Freddie and to his relief, Beverly. He took a seat next to her-purposefully empty, he’d wager- and ran over the series of events in his head. He had just replayed looking into those eyes when Beverly’s waving hand in front of his face snapped him out of his reverie, and he plastered on a smile.

              “So what happened over there?” Jimmy asked in between bites of cheese pizza. Will cocked his head,

              “What do you mean?”

              “Well,” Brian quipped, “We watched you run into Lecter and we’re kinda dying to find out what just went down between the two of you.”

              “Lecter?” Will asked, shooting Beverly a quizzical look.

              “Hannibal Lecter,” Beverly explained, “he’s the guy I was talking about earlier.”

              “Oh,” Will replied, the name bouncing around in his mind like a desktop screen saver, “so that’s who that was.”

              “Half the school saw it, you know.” Freddie commented off-handedly before chomping into her hamburger. Alana smacked her on the arm lightly and Freddie back tracked,

              “I mean, it was kind of inevitable anyway, right?” she scoffed around a mouthful of burger, “We have such a small school.”

              “Amen to that.” Beverly raised her pepperoni pizza in mock-toast before taking a bite. Beverly watched Will blush from the corner of her all-seeing eyes and she tilted her head at him, giving him a knowing look.

              “So what happened?”

              “The usual,” Will replied with a self-deprecating smile before he began to nibble on his turkey sandwich. He filed the name away in his mind for later use, “I just wasn’t watching where I was going.”

              “Yeah, we saw,” Jimmy chirped before stealing some of Brian’s Doritos, earning him a sour look, “What exactly did you do to him?”

              “How do you mean?” Will asked as he watched Brian heave a small sigh and scoot the bag closer to Jimmy-admitting defeat.

              “He left you in such a hurry without even a passing glance. Usually, he’d at least slow down and apologize for bumping into you.” Alana explained, now taking from Brian’s Doritos as well. Brian rolled his eyes but said nothing. Will smirked at the boy and took a chip when the defeated boy handed the bag his way.

              “Hell, he’s got to know that you’re new.” Brian chimed, “I’m really surprised he didn’t try to introduce himself.”

              Beverly watched as the self-deprecating smile worked its way back onto his face and she placed her hand on his arm, “Hey, no worries. He was probably just overwhelmed by your aura of awesomeness and felt that he had to leave and regroup before joining you later, ya know?”

              Even though they really hadn’t known him for very long, he noticed that the rest of the group nodded to her words.

              There. A real smile, now on Will’s face. Beverly smiled too.

              “Maybe.” Will mumbled to himself. He glanced over at the general location where he’d last seen Hannibal, and found that the boy was seated not too far off, reading a book next to a younger girl, a brunette like him, although the girl’s hair proved to be much darker. In comparison, Will reckoned Hannibal was actually more of a dirty, dirty blonde-dishwater, even, than a true brunette like the girl beside him. The girl in question was doing her homework, it seemed, and her gaze was focused on the paper she was writing on. Besides the girl, the two were alone, as if in their own quiet little world.

              “Who’s that next to Hannibal?” Will asked Beverly, gesturing to the duo with a slight tilt of his head.

              Beverly didn’t even need to look to answer. “That’s Abigail Hobbs, Hannibal’s adopted sister.”

              “Actually, they’re both adopted.” Freddie declared with an upraised eyebrow, “Dr. Chilton and the Misses registered them in school with their original birth names-he said they didn’t want to take away their true heritages from them.”

              “So they’ve been coming here for a while, I take it?” Will asked, his curiosity piqued.

              Freddie shot him a salacious smile, “No-not really. They’ve only been here for two years, but you’re the still first newcomer to invoke such a reaction.”

              Will tried to keep his features neutral, but apparently something in his face had betrayed him-that or Freddie was just really good at reading people, because she continued,

              “You know, neither of them has ever been in a relationship with any of the students here.”

              “That’s right!” Brian shook a pointed finger at her, “Remember Mat Brown?”

              Many heads nodded and Will fought the comical urge to nod along to just to fit in.

              “He tried to get with Abigail in like, tenth grade, but she turned him down flat. As far as I recall, Hannibal hasn’t ever been propositioned, but knowing as little as I do about the guy, I doubt he’d ever brag about it.”

              Jimmy chuckled heartedly, “You know, he probably wouldn’t even tell it to another soul just to keep the poor girl from feeling embarrassed about the whole ordeal.”

              Will arched an eyebrow, “Seriously? He would do that?”

              Alana nodded, “Seriously.”

              Will still couldn’t believe it. What guy was _that_ nice? As his classmates chatted about the upcoming carwash, he stole another glance over at the table and froze when his blue eyes met brown. Hannibal was looking at him, they were looking at each other- _‘Holy shit we’re making eye-contact!’_ Will’s brain-probably his occipital lobe- screamed, _‘Alert! Alert! We don’t like making eye-contact! Look away! LOOK AWAY.’_

              But he couldn’t-he couldn’t look away, not when Hannibal was looking right back at him like he was actually _interesting_. Like there was something more than just the geeky, uncoordinated façade he displayed so openly, and it was with that thought he finally drew enough strength to break away. Curiosity ate at him unceasingly like maggots to a week-old cadaver-was Hannibal still looking his way? No, right? Why would he? But what if he was? Will bit back a frustrated snarl and gave in. As Beverly talked on about a new show she was watching, Will glanced up casually to Hannibal’s table to find that the man in question was thoroughly engrossed in his novel.

_‘I was probably just imagining the whole thing.’_

              As the bell rang and he threw away his trash, Will definitely didn’t think about the twinge of sadness that accompanied that sudden revelation. Nope, not at all.

*

              Hannibal did his best to relax as he slid into his car after school, but his hands refused to obey him, opting to clench the steering wheel instead until his knuckles were white. The vampire tore out of the parking lot long before Will emerged from building three, preferring not to receive such an unwelcome-yet he had to admit- reasonable response to stealing the glasses-wearing boy’s potential parking spot. He started the engine and listened to the car roar to life before easing itself into a low purr and zoomed away from the school and down the local back roads as his mind raced a mile a nanosecond.

              This new arrival-this Will Graham- was going to be a difficult one for him to deal with, that one thing was crystal. However, Hannibal never was one to back down from a challenge, and he wouldn’t back down now. Not when Will’s scent was so _intoxicating_. Hannibal took in a deep breath although he really didn’t need the oxygen, and reflected back on the fleeting aroma that was proving to be Will Graham. Will Graham was more than just another warm body, it seemed. The curly haired brunette didn’t just have a set of lovely eyes and delicate features, but also a heart that pumped blood with the same melodic resonance as an expertly played organ.

              With every heartbeat Will’s blood sang to Hannibal, a canary without a cage, free and vivid and divine. His scent was just as pleasant, and if Hannibal closed his eyes, he could see in his mind’s eye just what his scent reminded him of.

_A Vivid, dense forest on the edge of a meadow, the evening sun breaking through the clouds and lighting the meadow up with the twinkling lights of shimmering dew produced right after another bought of unannounced rainfall. The air is crisp, cool and soothing to the soul and flowers from a cornucopia of different fauna gracing the land with their fragrance._

              The scenery was breathtaking in the very least, yet he’d only gotten just a tiny dosage. It was strange to him, his yearning for the young man’s blood-it wasn’t like him to pick favorites.

              He prided himself in being open with his choice of food, eating only the organs of those who deserved to be eaten because of their unpardonable behaviors and exempting himself altogether from only the blood of drug and alcohol abusers. He was the only one in his small family that actively ate the hearts, livers and other good organs of his victims-and because of that, he was the only truly tan one.

              Hannibal, being the science-loving vampire that he was, had long ago experimented with the idea of eating the organs without drinking the blood (which didn’t do at all) and even tried consuming animal blood, which was sick appalling because it just didn’t _taste_ right. He might as well have been guzzling gasoline.

              He knew he could just feed from blood without eating the organs, which only drained him of his-at one time-naturally tan color. Besides giving him his darker complexion, the organ meat itself seemed to also fill him up more as well, and gave him a bit of normalcy that he sometimes craved from his time as a human. It wasn’t as if he didn’t _like_ being pale, everyone else in his family was, however it didn’t suit his nature. It didn’t _fit_ him like Will’s scent seemed to so perfectly fit Will.

              And then, there had come along a certain young man-another nameless, faceless tourist, who’d flipped him off and called Hannibal every name under the sun for not getting out of his way fast enough. On a whim Hannibal had pickpocketed the unsuspecting man and checked his I.D before tracking him down and establishing his current living arrangements.

              It shouldn’t have been so easy, but really, the man really shouldn’t have been so _rude_. It was dangerous to be rude to strangers, Hannibal thought, because honestly-you never know what kind of person you’re dealing with. Yes, many times a person could be openly offended and still never do a single thing about it, but Hannibal had pride. Since when could the cow kick the slaughterer and get away with it scott-free? Besides, he wasn’t one to sit idly by when an important lesson could be learned, and an ego could be _fed_.

              It had started with the one tourist, but from there it only escalated. Hannibal was careful, oh so very careful, always sure to make it look like an accident, or a gang-related hit. He took people from cities far, far away from Forks, sometimes even out of the state. He would bring his own murder kit in some instances and used weapons found at the scene of the crime in others.

              At first his family hadn’t really been excited with his decision-except dear Abby of course, who was always willing to go along with what her brother had in mind-but after it was confirmed that the chances of him ever getting caught were zero to none, his parents eventually learned to accept it. Three years in, and he was still perfectly innocent in everyone’s eyes, and he preferred to keep it that way. Things had changed in the world since he’d been reborn as the perfectly civil monster he now was, things such as the discovery of DNA and forensic science. He himself had only been a human child when humankind discovered that there was indeed a difference at all between the blood of humans, and that was only over a hundred years ago.

              Yes, humans had gone far in the course of a mere century, and as he pulled up into the drive of his home, he vaguely wondered about what lay in store for them, and what lay in store for Will.

              He shook his head ruefully as he opened the door. Everything was coming back to Will, wasn’t it? There was no denying it-there was an attraction of sorts, Hannibal could feel it, and he was almost certain that the feelings weren’t one-sided. Now, all that was left was to wait, and spring his actions into play. But they’d not even been formally introduced-oh, how annoyed Hannibal felt with himself as he thought back to the café.

              Will had been so close, Hannibal could literally _smell_ the excitement roll of him in waves, and that only added to his own excitement. If he wasn’t careful, Hannibal was sure to lose control again and slip up once more-and that would not be tolerated, especially since he had been so rude himself and hadn’t even introduced himself properly. He was certain he’d spotted something in the shorter boy’s cerulean eyes, something dark and inviting, but he could be wrong, couldn’t he? Hannibal wasn’t _perfect_ -he was just really, really close. One thing he could be certain about was Will’s future-a future in which he belonged to Hannibal, standing beside him, lying under him and completely held in his hands.

              The boy just didn’t know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Uses best Moriarty impression I can muster* Did you like the thing I did with the organs?  
> Haha okay, okay, I had to at least try, right?
> 
> Ahem, so I hope you enjoyed this. Please, please *please* feel free to leave a comment regarding all forms feedback. All kinds of feedback is welcome, all the feedback. Thanks so much for sticking around with me! If you see anything you don't understand or that needs to be corrected, lemmie know. I don't have a beta for this so I'm kinda on my own over here xD
> 
> Wellll~ here's to chapter two's completion! Cheers! *raises glass and then forgets it's empty*


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author’s note: Alright. Time to get my shit together. It’s been a while, I know. There’s no truly valid excuse. However, uni is starting back up again soon, so I figured I should stop staring into the Uncaring, Unfeeling Void and get up off the floor and start writing again. Thank you for your kind words of encouragement, and your feedback. Please continue to shower me in them.
> 
> Without much ado, here’s chapter 3.

“Remind me, Will, I’ve got a dozen red roses with your name on it for Forks High’s Best Actor.” Beverly declared with an upturned smile.

“Hah. Thanks a lot.” Will snorted none-too politely at Beverly as they swiveled around in rusty chain-link swing sets.

            His is first day had set him on edge, and if he was being honest with himself, he was a pat on the back or forced hug away from a panic attack. What was it about him that made other people think they had a right to touch him? They didn’t know him from Adam, yet were so adamant about reaching out to touch him like he was the Messiah, or more accurately, the Prodigal’s Son-gone away and returned to finish high school with the rest of them. After going out for subs instead of pizza the two found themselves back at one of their old childhood haunts.

“Would you like it before or after the cast’s final bow?” Beverly mused playfully. Pride bloomed inside her heart, starting from the center of her chest before reaching out to cover her entire being just like the spindly appendages of a spider lily unfurling its petals. She knew of the possible repercussions of introducing her squad to him all at once, but really, if Will was going to stay until graduation, then it was for the best to get it over with now instead of later. Beverly was never one to slowly peel of a band aid, and besides, Will was a tough kid.

“Save the roses for prom night. You know, for when they officially crown me as King of Weird and pour the pig’s blood?” Will advised sarcastically as he twirled himself around and around before letting loose and sending himself into a spiraling vortex.

The rubber band on his wrist irritated his skin, a solid reminder that not only was homicidal thoughts a no-no, but self-deprecating thoughts were too.

“Are you saying we should go to prom together?” Beverly asked with an upraised brow.

“Well, yeah, unless someone steals you away, I don’t think there’s going to be anyone who would be willing to take little ol’ me to prom.” Will replied as he held on for dear life.

“Actually,” Beverly drawled, her eyes narrowing dangerously as she took in the childish sight, “by the looks of things with Lecter, he may beat me to asking you to prom. That is, if no one steals me first.” She added dryly.

Despite himself, that comment about Lecter had Will digging his heels into the dirt, abruptly stopping his mini-merry-go-round midway. “What do you mean?” He grunted, only just regretting his little spin-around as his eyes tried to focus on his best friend while his head tried to race around the track a couple more times.

Beverly smirked, “Lecter was totally taken by you. Honestly,” she kicked off the ground here and began to work on gaining air, “It’s the first time he’s shown something more than the ‘goodie two shoes’ act he’s always playing.”

Will let this sink in as his vertigo left him and began to try and catch up to Katz’s already high reach into the sky. As he replayed the scene in his head, he was struck again by the haunting undertones beneath the natural shine of Lecter’s eyes. ‘ _There had to be something there’_ Will thought as he chewed his bottom lip.

As he thought about it more, he couldn’t help but remember the tense silence after Lecter told him there wasn’t any need to apologize. There was no “Well hello my name is ‘insert name’, no, “hey so I see you’re new here”, no nothing. Lecter didn’t say anything to him after that-granted, neither did Will, but at least he had the excuse of being terrified. What was Lecter’s excuse?

Tired of thinking about the mysterious stranger for the moment, he deflected.

“I was talking about the whole ‘if no one steals me first’ bit. You’re totally a 20 Bev. You’ve got the hair, the body, the lack of crippling social anxiety,” Will grinned bitterly, “Someone is going to snatch you faster than a box of Girls Scouts cookies.”

Beverley settled on him with a knowing look, fully aware of his deflective methods but wasn’t done yet. She had a point to get across, and Will knew it the moment he’d finished.

“You’re his lab partner,” Beverley mused, kicking the dust around her feet, “my point is, things are bound to happen between you two. Whether or not you end up hating each other or dating each other, _something_ is going to happen.”

“Well, we’ll see.” Will replied, forcing himself to focus on the feeling of the wind in his hair and not the feeling of dark, all-seeing eyes looking into his soul and a sense of electricity as a warm body slid against his own. He shivered, but whether it was from the breeze or the memory he couldn’t be sure.

Beverly, like always, wasn’t fazed by his suddenly somber demeanor. She whooped at his submission and she jumped out of her swing to race back up the jungle gym. She smiled down at Will’s face intently watching her, “I hope so!” She shouted to the pine trees, to the sky, and most loudly to Will’s self-doubt.

 

*

That night, Will dreamed of a color that he couldn’t name with just one loaded word. It would have been frustrating, if only he himself hadn’t been forced to grow up with restrictive labels. ‘ _Leave it to Will Graham to empathize with a fucking color’_. If he had to try, he would say ‘brown’, but honestly…‘brown’ did it a severe injustice. It was a slap in the face and borderline rude to contain just what the color was to Will with just one five-letter word. Instead, there were three different words that seemed to best describe the color as it trickled into his dream, little by little.

The first word was ‘chocolate’, the richest kind of chocolate that melted on your tongue and haunted you for years to come with its fleeting, exquisite taste. It was the butterflies in your stomach after receiving an invitation from your crush, asking you out on a date. It was walking outside from cool indoors to receive the sun on your skin. It was a special kind of warm, all-encompassing and bone-deep. It reminded Will of his days relaxing in the grass on warm sunny days in the backyard when he was little. In his dream, swarms of rich brown butterflies fluttered around him against a sky blue background. He watched as they landed on his arms, kissing his skin before melting away and leaving him flushed.

The second word was ‘bourbon’, only the best of the best for Will. This time, the background changed into a forest. He breathed in the sharp scent of the forest pine around him, and, as if drinking deeply from an unseen glass, he slowly became less and less aware of his surroundings as they morphed into something else. A bedroom, certainly not his, with a wide book shelf near the door chocked with books and a bed that contained a deep brown duvet and scarlet sheets. Will wanted to examine the room more, but the only thing he could focus on was that _bed._ He sighed in contentment as he sunk into the mattress, his heart picking up the pace without his permission, as if the organ sensed something coming that his eyes and ears could not.

Then there was the last word, one that came from the darkness that usually huddled in the back of his mind, kept there by societal standards and self-loathing--‘blood’. Not fresh blood that still gleamed scarlet on tile or snow or carpet or clothes, but old blood-the blood that was usually left behind due to a sloppy clean-up or total disregard on the killer’s behalf. Blood that stood as a witness to whatever crime transpired and could still incarcerate you or worse, send you to The Chair if found and examined properly.

It was the color of dangerous blood.

As he lay in the bed in the room he couldn’t focus on, he became aware of the growing stickiness that the silk sheets felt to him, of the patches of scarlet taking on a more sinister shade as he continued to examine them. He tried to get up but the sanguine sheets clung to him and pulled him back in until he was drowning.

As he dreamed, Will tried to get out of bed, a usual habit from his childhood that doctors were never able to correct. As he sat up however, someone stepped away from his chair and stood beside him. Without a second thought the figure reached over and began to hold him down, unwilling to let Will accidentally hurt himself. The figure manifested in his dream as a shadowy entity, instantly driving him into panic mode. Will began to viciously thrash about and flail his limbs wildly in an attempt to get whatever-whoever, was attacking him to go away. Seemingly fed up, the mysterious entity took both of his hands with one and pinned them back behind his head before leaning in and raising a finger to where Will supposed its mouth would be.

_“Shush, Will”,_ it said in a strange, yet familiar accent, “ _you’ll wake up your father. You don’t want to wake him up, do you? He works such long hours.”_

Will stopped thrashing, too stunned to move as he stared at the head of the shadow entity. Whoever this was, they knew his weak spot.

_“Very good Will. Stay quiet. Good.”_ It said, and although there was no face, Will was sure by just the sound of the voice alone that they were smiling.

“Who are you?” Will mumbled in his sleep.

_“I am only a visitor Will, here to save you from yourself. You do not need to fear me. Now, go back to sleep.”_ The figure’s hand brushed lightly against his cheek, leaving a small flush in its wake before tapping Will’s forehead lightly, sending him into a dreamless sleep.

Will woke up with a small headache, but thankfully there was no other pain he could detect. Sometimes when Will dreamt, he would hit himself on accident, thinking it was the attacker in his dreams only to wake up and find his thighs covered in bruises. Other times, Will would find himself in a totally different room. He sat up and arched his back languidly before slipping his glasses on and heading towards the bathroom to fix his hair and brush his teeth.

As he did so, he couldn’t help but study his features in the mirror. Much to his chagrin was starting to get a bit of stubble on his face again, which meant he had to shave. He reluctantly pulled out his razor from the compartment behind the mirror before going through the motions of rinsing his face and lathering it up. He hesitated, feeling somewhat childish for being afraid to start lest he cut himself. With a sigh and the knowledge that if he didn’t start now, he’d be late for school, he started the process of shaving.

Sure enough, when there were only about two stripes of foam left to conquer, he nicked himself on the chin. “Shit!” he hissed to himself as he watched the blood swell up and trickle down his face before pooling under his chin and dripping into the sink. He looked back at the cut and rolled his eyes. It was so tiny! No one was really going to notice it all that much. Why did the face have to bleed so much? Why couldn’t he have just shaved properly? Why couldn’t he just do one thing without fucking it up royally? He sighed, and with a light smack of his trusty rubber band, finished shaving before cleaning up the cut and blood and throwing on some aftershave he found in the spare bathroom that at one point probably belonged to his father.

After he had dressed he greeted his father in the kitchen who had a newspaper in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. For a moment he was struck by flashes of his childhood as he analyzed the scene before him.

“Good morning Dad.” Will said cheerfully as he prepared a bowl of cereal and fished the milk out of the icebox. Mr. Graham took a moment to put down the newspaper and beamed up at his son as Will took a place next to him. A part of the warmth in his smile seeped from memories long ago, teaching the boy in front of him to hold a razor properly and how to angle the blade in order to get the best results.

“Good morning son. Did you sleep well?”

Will stopped in mid bite as he processed the question. Did he sleep well last night? He couldn’t remember a thing. Usually his dreams would haunt him the next day until he slept again, but since the moment he had gotten up, nothing had come back to him.

“I guess I did. I don’t remember. I have a small headache though.”

Mr. Graham furrowed his eyebrows, “Well, you know where the medicine is, and no dreams at all huh? Well, that’s good then, isn’t it? No dreams are always better than nightmares.” He was all too aware of how true that was for his little boy. He wasn’t surprised with Martha informed him that Will still sleepwalked.

“That’s true.” Will replied after dry swallowing a Tylenol. In between forkfuls of Chex he asked, “So did you read anything good?”

Mr. Graham’s smile faded into a grim line, “No son, not really.”

Will set his spoon down, “What happened?” he asked. He could feel the worry eat away at his father from across the table just by the dark lines under his eyes and the way he gripped the stem of his coffee mug.

Mr. Graham, much like his son, was a master of deflection. “You look great son, who are you dressing up for?” he inquired with an impressed smile.

Will glanced down at his green plaid polo shirt and black undershirt with a confused look.

“I’m not dressing up for anyone Dad. But it’s nice to know I look good I guess.” Will replied before adding sternly, “so what exactly happened?”

Mr. Graham sighed, “Well, it looks like the Calawah* Ripper is active again. He hasn’t killed in months but we’re sure it’s him.”

Will’s eyebrows shot up, “Really? He’s got to be about..” he paused and continued after doing some mental math, “in his mid-sixties! Are the police sure it’s him?”

“It’s his signature, son.  Among other things, the organs are missing just like in all the other cases.”

Will reached out his hand, “Well, let me take a look at it-”

“Nuh uh, you’ve got school to attend. When you get home and finish your homework, I’ll go through the case file with you.” Mr. Graham replied sternly, steering the newspaper away from his son’s grasp. When he saw the look of doubt flicker across the younger man’s face his own softened, “I promise. We’ll sit down and discuss it like the good ol’ days.”

Will relented, “alright,” he said as he collected his dishes to place into the sink, “I believe you. I’ll be going then.”

His father stood up to hug him and patted him gently on the back, “Have a wonderful day Will.” When his son pulled out and away from the house, he couldn’t help but mutter to himself “and be careful.”

By the time he pulled into the parking lot, Mr. Mercedes was already parked a few slots down from him. He sneered at the model, a rueful smile dancing on his face as he allowed himself a moment to think of the pristine car in front of him as nothing more than a crumpled up piece of metal, not unlike a used can of soda, before grabbing his backpack and hightailing it towards 1st period to where his new entourage was sure to await him. It wasn’t like he hated the other students for the way they seemed to fawn over him, but rather it was how they seemed to accept him wholeheartedly, without even knowing what kind of sick fuck they were discussing English Literature with.

He hesitated at the doorway, careful to take the time to compose himself and build up his mental walls before stepping into the classroom with a cheerful gait and a sloppy smile. Mr. Merriweather barely even glanced up at his newest student before continuing to rearrange his worksheets for the day.

            ‘ _Oh no I almost forgot,’_ Will thought as he continued to discreetly observe the professor as he sat down in his seat, ‘ _I’m going to have to sit down with Bloom and Lounds. I hate group work.’_

Before he could properly begin to bemoan this, Alana chose that time to cut into his thought process.

            “Hi Will.” She greeted him softly, keeping an eye on the teacher, “you look really handsome today.”

            Will raised an eyebrow, “Uh, thank you Alana.” Before he could think of what compliment to supply her with in return, Freddie stepped into the conversation with gusto.

            “So Will! Are you looking forward to Anatomy?” She asked.

            “Uh, is there a specific reason as to why I should, Freddie?” Will asked warily. This only increased her enthusiasm.

            “Hannibal Lecter is going to be there, duh.” Freddie replied, shooting Alana a conspiratorial smile that was not reciprocated. Alana actually scowled at her but quickly covered it up when she realized Will was watching. He had half the mind to bring up this Benton Merriweather kid that he still had not met just to mess with Freddie but now was not the time. He would have to wait and meet Benton before he could actually talk about him.

            Will swallowed down the string of profanities he wanted to strangle Freddie with and decided on playing dumb instead. “Well, since he’s my lab partner for the year I guess so. I don’t want to have to work by myself the whole time.” He sighed inwardly in relief when that got both girls to giggle a bit.

            Before Freddie could needle him more, Mr. Merriweather started up the lesson and Will kept their topics solely on _‘Macbeth’_. It felt like all too soon, class was over and he was being corralled away from 1 st period to 2nd on Beverly’s arm.

            “You seem nervous.” Beverly said heartily in her typical blunt way. Will glared at her,

            “Freddie seems to think I have a reason to be excited about Anatomy now because of _Hannibal Lecter._ ” Will growled, “all because of that stupid scene we made.”

            “I’ll talk to her about it.” Beverly promised as they made their way into the doorway. Even from here Will could see the boy in question, and despite his inner monologue screaming that he didn’t care, his heart was already starting to kick it into gear. Beverly let go with a gentle squeeze of his arm and a “Remember, Will-‘aura of awesomeness’” before taking her seat, leaving him alone with Hannibal as the latter stared down at the Anatomy and Physiology text book they’d been given.

It wasn’t until Will sat down in his seat that Hannibal looked up, but when he did, Will could’ve sworn he and that book had a lot more in common besides being pasty white and full of incoherent rambling about things that made people squeamish. Lecter settled his gaze on Will with a smile that did things to Will’s stomach.

“Hello,” Lecter said cordially in that strange, inviting accent of his, “first I must apologize for my rude behavior yesterday.”

Will blinked, “Rude? Why would you consider it ‘rude’?”

It was Lecter’s turn to look a little surprised, “Well, for starters, I did not introduce myself back there in the café when we bumped into one another.”

_‘You mean when **I** bumped into **You**?’ _ Will snarled to himself. If Lecter really did have any claim to blame, then sure-- it would be kind of Lecter to take partial blame, but there wasn’t any for him. It was infuriating when Will knew that Lecter knew Will was to blame. Why not just come out and say “Watch where you’re going next time?” or “When you bumped into me?” If he was being honest with himself, it was probably his subconscious saying that Will just wanted a reason for this guy to be angry with him so that he’ll leave him alone. But when was Will ever honest with himself?

“Well, you’re uh, forgiven.” Will replied, pulling himself out of his thoughts as he noticed the cashmere sweater from before. His eyes traveled up slightly to see the boy’s grey pinstriped shirt collar and a clean shave jawline. Not a cut or anything. Lucky bastard. He rested his eyes just under Lecter’s left ear and smiled slightly to reassure himself and the other boy.

“My name is Hannibal Lecter,” Hannibal supplied with an outstretched hand. He watched as Will hesitated for a fraction of a second, keeping his face perfectly inviting as he took in the fluttering mess in front of him. Yes, he was a lovely little thing, easily flustered and entirely delectable-his blood smelled even more heavenly a second time, and with a jolt of delight he realized that Will had cut himself shaving this morning. He couldn’t help but return his gaze back time and time again to that cut, and the newly formed scab that contained Will’s precious life source.

He managed to hide a triumphant grin as he watched Will reach out his hand before engulfing it with his own, slightly shocked at the younger boy’s chilly hands. Well, that was what Hannibal was there for, wasn’t it? To provide warmth?

Now that they were touching, Will couldn’t help but shudder at the heat of Hannibal’s hand leeching into his own skin and therefore changing his own temperature. It was oddly symbolic, this moment-a part of Lecter was adapting to him, overcoming him and changing Will.

_‘Where did that thought even come from?’_

“I’m Will Graham.” Will replied, his own name sounding foreign to him at the moment. Hannibal smiled before letting go. Will’s name swished around in his mouth like a fine wine, tasting of hickory wood smoke and freshly cut grass before swallowing it. Will couldn’t help but notice Hannibal looking at his cut, and wondered if he should bring it up as a topic of conversation but before he could Mrs. Kennesaw chose that moment to start class.

“Alright class! Turn to page 254!” she instructed before turning back to the board. Will blanched immediately at that, realizing his book was still in his truck. He mentally kicked himself and ran a hand through his curls.

Hannibal couldn’t believe his luck today. First, Will had nicked himself shaving, and second, he had forgotten his book somewhere. Brilliant! Now he could play the ‘hero’ and offer to share his book with Will, and not only that, they would have to sit closer to both be able to read the contents! Not like Hannibal actually needed the damned book anyway, he already knew all there was to know about Anatomy.

“Will,” Hannibal whispered, catching the boy’s attention before simply sliding his book over. Asking if Will wanted to share would come off as an insult, surely. As he watched Will’s face morph from anger to relief, he knew he had done the right thing. He smiled down at the book as he watched Will bring his chair closer to him from the corner of his eye and had to bite back the urge to sigh contently when Will’s leg accidentally brushed his as he leaned over to examine the chapter. He almost did sigh contently when he noticed Will flush at the contact.

Will didn’t move away after the accidental brush, but he didn’t move any closer either as they studied the book. As he stared down at the words without actually reading them, his glasses slid down his nose. Before he could make a move to push them back up however, Hannibal’s words were in his ear.

“May I?” Hannibal asked, itching to have a reason to touch Will’s face again since last night.

Will flushed even more, and was tempted to say ‘no’, that he could do it, but found himself muttering “yes” instead. Without another word Hannibal reached out and grabbed the edge of his frames before pushing them back up, his fingertips brushing against Will’s cheek only minutely. He noticed Will close his eyes briefly as he did so, the flush ever present on his cheeks before he bringing his hand back to rest beside the book. Pride uncoiled in his chest like  a sleepy cobra, waking up to hunt and ravish.

“Uh, t-thank you.” Will stuttered, too caught up in what just happened to kick himself for doing so. He watched Hannibal smile at him sweetly before he turned back to the teacher to watch her draw out a diagram of some sort. Will hastily copied down the picture on the board before taking the risk of glancing at Hannibal. His eyes traveled down from his lab partner’s face to the boy’s notebook to examine the page, and was surprised by the elegant cursive and exact replica of the diagram in the textbook. It was as if Hannibal had taken a picture of the image and then plastered it on notebook paper.

“You’re very talented.” Will murmured as he pointed at Hannibal’s page with his pencil. Hannibal glanced down at his work before chuckling a little,

“Thank you Will. I’ve had plenty of practice in the arts of drawing.”

Will was going to ask how many years he’d been drawing before Mrs. Kennesaw called on him to answer a question about the cell.

“The Mitochondria.” Will shot back, earning a proud smile from the teacher. He saw Beverly stick her tongue out at him and he chuckled. When he looked over at Hannibal, he noticed how stony the other boy looked and raised a brow in question when Hannibal finally returned his gaze.

“You’re familiar with Ms. Katz?” Hannibal asked. Will nodded,

“Yes, we’re like siblings.” Will supplied, and much to his surprise Hannibal’s demeanor relaxed a little at that. He decided to store that away for another time.

After the bell rang Will stood up and stretched slowly, getting up on his tip toes to straighten his back. He smirked to himself as Hannibal watched him, talking to him about if he would like sit together at lunch at not when the boy took in a sharp breath. Confused, Will looked down to see that his shirt was riding up a bit.

“Oh sorry about that,” Will explained, as he smoothed his shirt back down, “I like to stay as loose limbed as possible.”

“No, no,” Hannibal replied, his smile tight lipped as his fangs began to ache, “It’s fine, no need to apologize.” Especially if he was going to do that again. Was Will always this unaware of showing himself? What little Hannibal did see, he liked, and decided to store away that memory for later when he was alone. “So will you be sitting with me at lunch, Will?”

“With you and your sister, right?” Will clarified as they left the room, leaving Beverly to go to her own class alone. He felt mildly bad about that, but with the saucy look she was giving him, he was sure she was fine with it.

“Yes, with my sister. I want to introduce you to her.” Hannibal replied. Abigail was sure to like Will, he knew, and the sooner they became friendly the better. He walked with Will to his 3rd period class and stood by the door with Will, admiring the shorter boy’s hair and eyes whenever they landed on him. With his delicate features, Will could easily pass as an angel or an innocent prince ripe for the taking. It was highly ironic, all things considered. And oh, did Hannibal love irony.

“Sure Hannibal. I’ll see you then.” Will replied before giving him a small wave goodbye. Hannibal nodded and headed off to his own class, proud and relieved that Will had said yes and that his plan was so far going smoothly. By this rate, Graham would be coming undone for him before spring break. Speaking of spring break-Hannibal should already start planning their activities for then. Maybe some nature walks? Swimming? Cooking is a must do, Will would be so impressed by his cuisine, and maybe Will would also let Hannibal draw him. And of course, if things continued as they did, he was going to have his way with him on more than one occasion.

As Hannibal imagined Will’s undoing, Will was being mauled with a slew of questions.

“Did Hannibal Lecter just walk you to class?” Jimmy whispered harshly, his blue eyes blazing with excitement as he stared at Will.

“Of course Lecter walked him to class, Jimmy!” Brian retorted for Will, “didjya see the way he lingered near Will at the door? They’re totally a thing now!”

“Woah, woah, woah!” Will exclaimed with upturned hands, “We are not a ‘thing’, and..” he lowered his voice, “secondly, what makes you think I’m even gay?”

Jimmy rolled his eyes, “Oh please, it takes one to know one.”

Will chocked on his own spit, “What?! You-you can’t tell anyone!”

Brian frowned at him, “Of course we won’t, Will. We’ve got our own asses to cover here too. But it’s nice to know that we were right. Jimmy and I hypothesized that you were, based on your reaction yesterday at lunch.”

            “Which reminds me,” Jimmy drawled as he gave his hand to Brian, palms up, “you owe me.”

            A look of fear flickered across Brian’s face before he asked Will, “You’re bi though right? I mean, you aren’t technically gay?”

            Will squinted at Brian and tilted himself away, “No. I’m not bi.”

A malicious part of him sneered as Brian sighed in defeat and forked over five bucks to Jimmy, who winked at Will.

            The class went by smoothly enough with Will mostly having his shit together and his head out of the clouds. History always did that to Will, mostly because he would spend that time empathizing with the people he read about and virtually living what they lived through. His Dad often reminded him as a child about how his head was so finely equipped that it even came with a ‘time machine’ when he was little. Turned out, when Will was older, that this so-called ‘time machine’ did in fact exist, and it was called a hippocampus.

            After leaving his history class he was surprised to find Beverly there outside the door alongside Hannibal. It was an odd sight, the two of them chatting nicely enough but they cut off whatever conversation they were having when Will came into view.

            “Will!” Beverly exclaimed as she jumped him with a hug, “I hear you’re going to be dining elsewhere today.”

            Jimmy frowned and opened his mouth to say something about it but Brian’s hand on his arm stopped him. Will made sure to add a mental tally onto Brian’s record with him.

            “Yeah, I’ll um, see you later.” Will replied as Hannibal shot Beverly a cordial smile that seeped with smug undertones.

            “I look forward to it!” Beverley chimed before herding Jimmy and Brian ahead of her towards the café.

            _‘I bet she does.’_ Will thought sarcastically as he and Hannibal followed a ways away.

            “So where did you come from?” Hannibal asked after a moment or two as they walked down the hallway. _‘Who should I be thanking for bringing you to me?’_ Hannibal mentally added a he watched the bouncy curls fall around Will’s face. Will hummed in thought,

            “I was born in Louisiana and have lived mostly in Virginia.”

            “With your Mother?” Hannibal pressed. He hadn’t thought of his real mother in decades, not since he met Mr. and Mrs. Chilton.

            Will grimaced at the pang of unexpected sadness that came with the thoughts of his mother. She was so far away but at least she was with her new husband. “Yeah,” he replied after a brief pause, “I used to come here every summer to be with my Dad. That’s how I know Beverly. What about you? Where are you originally from?”

            Hannibal smiled softly at the question. “I was born in Lithuania, but have lived here in America for most of my life too.” He noticed Will’s grin and wondered to himself what the boy could be grinning about. Whatever it was, he looked proud of it, so it wasn’t anything to pursue.

            “Was Abigail born in Lithuania too?” Will asked thoughtfully. Hannibal shook his head,

            “No, she was born here in America.” Hannibal mentally smirked at his joke as he reflected on his “sister”. Abigail was indeed born in Washington, and “born” as a vampire there too. It was funny little puns like these that he loved, however it was much more fun to have someone to share the joke with. Oh well. He figured that eventually Will would come to know his true identity and appreciate them in due time.

            Honestly, if Hannibal had it _his_ way, he would just drag Will into the nearest closet and turn him then and there. But, alas, the turning process took so much longer than that. It would take at least a few days to change Will, and besides-this _was_ kind of humorous to watch despite the fact that he had to be extra careful with what he said. After Will got his lunch-ugh, it was revolting how tasteless and base the food was here-Hannibal pulled out a seat for Will when they arrived at the table. Abigail shot him a quick look above her book but other than that she didn’t stop reading until Hannibal himself sat down.

            “Hello brother.” Abigail greeted cheerfully before turning to Will with curious amber eyes, “Hello Will.”

            Will’s insides churned nervously as she studied him, “Hello Abigail.” He said, taking in the alabaster skin of the ninth grader. He turned back to his lunch when she turned back to her book and shot a weak smile at Hannibal as the other boy pulled out tubberware that had something that smelled absolutely _divine._ Catching Will’s inquisitive stare, Hannibal took that as an opening to discuss it.

            “It’s sirloin topped with asiago cheese along with a side of roasted Brussel sprouts,” Hannibal lied, noticing Will’s reaction with demented glee, “Would you like to try some?”

            Will balked, “Oh, no-no no, it’s fine, I don’t want to intrude and I bet whoever cooked this worked hard on it-”

            “Nonsense, Will,” Hannibal interjected with a freshly cut square of “sirloin” topped with melted cheese, “I insist you try some.”

            Before Will could try to argue again Hannibal plopped the square of meat down onto Will’s plate and a couple of slices of Brussel sprout. Will, feeling a bit overwhelmed, silently obeyed and ate.

            _‘Fuck, it’s amazing.’_

            Will was barely able suppress a moan as the flavors caressed his tongue. It was like having sex in your mouth and no, he was not talking about oral. This was even better than sex, or at least the sex he’d experienced.

“Well, Will? How is it?” Hannibal asked after a moment or two of relishing the sight of Will Graham consuming and relishing his food. Will didn’t know when he had closed his eyes but he found himself opening them to stare at Hannibal.

“It’s exquisite, absolutely-” he had to cut himself off so he wouldn’t swear in front of them, “It’s amazing.” He now understood why the Greeks were such gluttons. If Will was treated to this kind of cooking all the time, he would be a glutton too. “Who made this?” Will entreated eagerly.

Hannibal tilted his head down and-was he blushing? Will wasn’t sure, “I cooked this, Will. It pleases me to know that you like it.”

Abigail, behind the safety of her book, rolled her eyes at his theatrics but smiled anyway.

“You-you cooked this?” Will exclaimed, “That’s amazing. I like to cook too, but nothing I make ever comes out like this, I mean, wow Hannibal, it’s incredible.”

If someone didn’t shut him up, Will was certain he was going to sing praises all day, it was that good. He decided on eating his own food to shut himself up and was sorely disappointed by how lackluster the flavor compared to Hannibal’s food.

“That settles it then,” Hannibal declared, turning his attention to Abigail who in turn took a moment to look up at him. With Abigail’s attention he continued, “Will must come over to dinner one of these days.”

Will blushed, “Uh-”

“Of course!” Abigail exclaimed in a sing-song manner, already taking out her phone to text their parents. After she shot the text she turned to Will, lifting up the phone, “I just sent the text, which means that one of these days you’re going to come over and enjoy big brother’s wonderful food.”

“I-I guess that does settle it then, huh?” Will laughed weakly.  
              
“Don’t worry Will,” Hannibal assured him, “we can have it on your terms. After you look at your schedule you can tell me when a good day is, and come over. We would be delighted to have you and your father over for dinner.”

Will gulped, finding the strength within him to look Hannibal in the eyes and started as Hannibal’s bore down into him with such fervor that he couldn’t speak for a moment. The lunch bell tolled, saving him from having to say another word about the matter and pulling him away from Lecter’s dangerously inviting gaze.

The rest of the day was uneventful, and by the time he got home he was exhausted. He sighed as he pulled into the empty driveway and vaguely wondered where his Dad was. He plopped onto his bed after kicking his shoes off and checked his phone, showing a new message from Beverly.

**From: Bev**

**How’d your lunch date go ;) -4:05 P.M**

Will snickered, _of course_ she would call it that. He quickly typed out a response:

**To: Bev**

**Oh, you know, he proposed to me and I said ‘yes’. His sister was even there as a witness. It went fine, Bev. He did say I would have to come over to his house so he could cook for me. -4:07 P.M**

**From: Bev**

**Holy shit really? Hahahaha invite me to the wedding xD but rly he invited you to dinner at his place? That’s pretty forward. I TOLD you things were bound to happen between you! -4:11 P.M**

**To: Bev**

**You don’t understand, this guy can COOK. Like, it was**

Will wanted to put “orgasmic”, but knowing Beverly, she would only use that against him. But it was such an appropriate word… Instead he wrote

**it was phenomenal. I can’t wait to try out his other dishes. -4:17 P.M**

**From: Bev**

**Ok ok loverboy, I get it. Well I gtg I’ll see you tomorrow -4:20 P.M**

Will covered his face with his arm and smiled like an idiot. After tasting Hannibal’s cooking, he was determined to improve his own skills in the kitchen. After a quick look around the house he gathered all the ingredients he would need in record speed before preheating the oven and proceeded to wash his hands. Afterwards, he began to mix the diced tomatoes and cream of mushroom in one bowl, careful to blend both ingredients well enough that the grey of the cream of mushroom and the red of the diced tomatoes were as one.

He took the chicken fajitas and placed them on the bottom of the baking pan before adding a layer of the tomato and mushroom paste to cover the chicken, careful to add just enough before sprinkling some shredded cheese on top. Next was the fun part. He took the bag of Doritos from the cabinet and after opening the bag just a tad to let the air out, he began to pulverize it, reducing the chips inside to nothing more but crumbs. He took half of the chips and covered the cheese before adding after layering the paste onto another pile of chicken and cheese and finally finished his prep work by dumping the second half of the Doritos.

During the 45 minutes it took to cook, Will sat down at his desk and finished what little homework he didn’t do during study hall. He wondered if he should bring some for Hannibal, to let the Lithuanian try some of his own creation-Dorito casserole, a delicacy passed down from his Father’s side. Surely it wouldn’t be too… unsophisticated, right? Right. If Hannibal didn’t like it, then that was okay, he would still have something tastier to eat than cafeteria food at least. Speaking of Hannibal, what was Lecter doing now? Was he also doing homework?

Sweat ran down his forehead as a thought struck him hard.

_‘I have only just met him, and I’m already acting like a clingy girlfriend.’_

He surely wasn’t right? It’s not like he was obsessed by this guy.

_‘This is only the beginning though. You’re going to fall so hard, you’re never going to come back.’_

His brain made that sound so bad. Was it really that bad? He would catch himself before he fell too hard right?

He gulped, and unable to sit still anymore he jumped up and raced back downstairs right before his Father walked through the door.

“Son?” Mr. Graham’s voice rang out in alarm as he watched his son zoom past him into the kitchen.

“Hi Dad,” Will called back as he opened a can of green beans to heat up as a side dish. He took out the casserole and inhaled the scent of cheese and chicken and Doritos, grateful that the smell alone calmed him down. “I’ll bring the casserole out if you set the table.”

“That smells amazing Will!” Mr. Graham exclaimed as he set out the plates and silverware, “I’m glad you made it. It always was my favorite.”

Will grinned as he sat the dish down, “Yeah, me too.”

Dinner was relatively quiet; both men too busy shoving their faces with food to take a break and converse. Cooking for his Father always made Will feel good since he knew his Father was unfortunately used to living alone. It wasn’t like his Dad couldn’t cook-he knew a few things here and there, but he just didn’t have the time with his job, and after working long hectic hours he usually didn’t feel like making any effort besides popping a T.V. dinner into the microwave.

As Will put away the food and stashed the dishes into the dishwasher, Mr. Graham grabbed the manila case file from his pack and sank down into the comfy recliner. He knew it wasn’t good for his boy to see these things, but damn it all, Will was a great detective in training. He waited as Will finished cleaning up and as the eighteen year old walked into the room he motioned for his son to sit down in the chair next to his.

“You know the drill,” Mr. Graham said sternly, “no discussing any of this with anyone else.”

“Yes sir.”

“Well,” Mr. Graham sighed as he opened up the file and handed it to Will, “a promise is a promise. After you finish reading it, tell me what you see.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Calawah River was used as the name for Hannibal’s alter ego of sorts instead of the Chesapeake River for obvious reasons (as in, there’s this cool river called the Calawah so that the murderer named after the river can still be named after the river). This is still unbeta’d. Still do not own Twilight or Hannibal.
> 
> *Dorito Casserole is a family recipe of mine, and oh boy, it's so good! I making it for my flatmates when I'm in uni (Which I am currently posting this from.)


	4. New Perspective chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

**COMING SOON**

**Sneak peek:**

 

Will opened his eyes slowly, and as he took his time waking up the two strong arms around him tightened ever so slightly, claiming ownership over his torso and reminding him that if he were to get up, he would wake his sleeping partner and really, Will didn't want to do that. He turned around and faced Hannibal, surprised to see that the older boy was already awake, and before he could stop himself a smile crawled across his face.  _'yes'_ he thought, ' _I want to wake up to this more often.'_


End file.
